


The Speckled Band

by latenightreading



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-16
Updated: 2013-04-16
Packaged: 2017-12-08 16:01:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/763270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/latenightreading/pseuds/latenightreading
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Helen Stoner comes seeking help in fear of meeting the same fate as her sister whose last words were regarding a speckled band</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Speckled Band

**Author's Note:**

> This is a retelling of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s ‘The Speckled Band’ with the reader included (in some smut hihi) I stayed true to most of the plot but put in some extra details of my own.

You had been dating John for half a year, longer than any other relationship he had since taking a room with the infamous consulting detective. The long hours he spent with Sherlock didn’t bother you. In fact, you were as fascinated as John was. Whenever you would meet him you couldn’t wait to hear about the latest findings of the case. Soon, your relationship with him became serious and despite fearing that you would hate him after meeting his flat mate, he brought you home.

Sherlock was everything he was made out to be and more. He pegged every detail of you from one look adding certain information that you yourself didn’t notice until he pointed it out. Not being convinced he had shown off enough, Sherlock added coldly that you were giving John the illusion of a long term relationship but in fact the only reason you were fine with John’s schedule was because you were afraid of commitment yourself.

“What does it matter as long as we’re both happy, Mr. Holmes?” you smiled cheekily, stepping closer to him than was usual. You looked up at his eyes, a grayish blue color that suited his mysterious air perfectly. Both of you stood in silence until John awkwardly clapped his hands together and brought you downstairs.

There a few more encounters with Sherlock, each time he made it clear you were meddling in his cases, distracting him from his thought process. John would always apologize for him. It was routine.

Spending the night at 221B Baker Street was not routine but one day after Sherlock had revisited the thought of your inability to hold on to long term relationships, you made it a point to show John exactly how you felt about him

The one time you decide to spend the night with John was either the best or worst decision you had made in your entire life. It was early the next morning when you woke to find Sherlock, fully dressed by the bed. He was wearing his purple long sleeved shirt over black slacks. As far as you could tell that was his favourite attire. You gave a small scream, waking John who had his arm around your side.

“For godsakes” he glares at you “John we have a client. I expect you dressed when you come out unless you would rather stay here.”

John groans, Sherlock was a late riser as a rule, and he was quite set in his ways. For an overbearing and rigid man to get up for a client a quarter before seven meant that the case would certainly be interesting.

“I wouldn’t miss it for anything” John replies before his friend shuts the door. You look at him, a bit shocked of Sherlock’s intrusion but your interest perked up as well. He turns to you and kisses your cheek softly “Sorry about... well you know. I’ll just be a moment.”

John gets out of bed, pulling on his jeans and knit sweater. You sit up from the bed, not wanting to miss the opportunity that was right in front of you.

“John, could I... well... I want to be part of the team” you ask shakily “at least just for this case”

“Team? Darling, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your interest but this isn’t a game. We might be dealing with something extremely dangerous.”

“You think Sherlock wouldn’t approve.”

“Well... he is rather difficult to get along with”

“So I can be part of it if I convince him”

“Now hold on, you won’t be able to convince him”

“No, that’s true but you can. John, please just this once and I won’t ever say anything again. I’ve been waiting for this for so long. You can’t say I’m not committed to you if I spend the next few days following you around with threat of danger, guns and murder. Oh please, John.”

In a few minutes, John walks out of his room. You follow closely behind him, wearing his jacket over the dress you wore the night before.

“I’m sorry to have woken you at this hour” A young lady looks up at you. She was draped in black, holding her gloves in her hand. A small hat adorned her head. The woman was around thirty but her hair had streaks of premature gray. Sherlock was opposite her, his hands cradling his chin in the most interesting fashion.

“Ah Ms. Stoner, this is John Watson my intimate friend and associate.” He glances back at you “and his... associate”

“Girlfriend” John corrects him “do you mind if we’re here to listen too?”

“Very well” Sherlock says despite the question being addressed to Ms. Stoner. You and John sit by the fire that Mrs. Hudson had been kind enough to set up.

“As I was telling Mr Holmes, I know of him from Mrs. Farintosh” she nodded her head toward you and John

“Ah yes, Opal tiara,” Sherlock interrupts “this was before you, John, of course, go on. Get to the point”

“Well, uhm, I’m Helen Stoner I live with my stepfather, Dr. Grimesby Roylott of Stoke Moran. He’s one of the last descendants of the Roylotts.”

“I’ve heard of him” you respond eagerly “They were one of the wealthiest families in England but their fortune was unfortunately lost through gambling.”

“Yes but my step father managed to acquire an advance from a relative which enabled him to take a medical degree. He went to Calcutta where he established a large practice. He narrowly escaped a capital sentence after beating his butler to death because of some robberies in the area. As it was, he was imprisoned for a long time and returned to England a morose and disappointed man.”

John started to jot down notes in his little notebook, looking up occasionally to see you leaning forward in interest. Sherlock started to get bored, he tapped his foot impatiently as he listened to the young woman’s story.

“When Dr. Roylott was in India, he married my mother, a widow of Major-General Stoner. My sister, Julia and I were two when she remarried. She had a considerable sum of money a year which she gave to Dr. Roylott under the condition that my sister and I would have gotten a portion when we married. Shortly after our return to England, my mother died, eight years ago in a car accident. We had enough money to be happy. But my step father completely changed since then. He allows a group of carnies with their strange animals to occupy the few acres we have”

“Carnies?” John looks up momentarily

“Yes, they’re a travelling freak show that decided to take up residence in our land. He’s also bought several animals from the black market. The cheetah and baboon in particular scare the villagers and authorities are too scared to come to the house. You can imagine, Julia and I don’t have many suitors. But two years ago she met a handsome, man. She was quite smitten with him. He was very kind to her, they were a good pair but...”

“Save me the trivial details , Ms. Stoner, as I have no time for them. Seeing as you came here on the first train this morning I believe something more recent has prompted your visit rather than your sister’s death some years ago.”

“How did you...”

“You have the second half of a return ticket in the palm of your left glove. There’s pollen on your thigh and streaks of mud on your boots which means you had to walk through some sort of grassy area. I take it to be your own land by the story you just said. The only reason you would walk and not take a car would be because you wanted to avoid suspicion by your step father no doubt, who you’ve been careful to talk about.”

“I haven’t”

“On your right wrist, three red bruises are visible but I expect there to be more, the size of the mark is too large to be made by a woman. I presume a man did that to you, in this case your step father”

“He’s just a little hot tempered” she says pulling down her sleeves

“Now go on with your story and try not to leave out any important detail.” He stressed the word important and started to pace the room

“My sister died two years ago, just about the time she was going to get married. Our rooms are right next to each other. My step father, Julia and then my room all open into the same corridor. She can’t sleep sometimes because of the cigar some she could smell. So she came into my room that night and we chatted about her wedding. Just before she went back to her room she turned to me and asked if I heard a low whistle in the early morning. She had been hearing it for the past few weeks, waking her. I told her I didn’t but we had concluded the noise to come from outside. I heard her lock her door a few minutes later.”

Sherlock stopped his fussing once Ms. Stoner mentioned the low whistle. He stopped from his pacing and looked at her.

“That night I felt something wrong, you know twins have this connection. I knew she wasn’t feeling very well” Sherlock scoffs at her statement “I hear a noise and I rush over to my sister’s room. In the corridor I hear the very whistle she had talked about, followed by a clanging of metal. I open the door and I find her swaying, as if lost from herself. When I grab her, she falls to her knees saying ‘Helen, it’s the speckled bangle’ She points to our step father’s room but before she can say anything else she has a seizure.”

“Was it possible to get into the room through the window” John asks

“No, we have an alarm system and bars on the windows because of the people residing on our land as well as the exotic pets our step father keeps.”

“Were you sure about what you heard, that of the whistle and the metal sound?” Sherlock looks at her keenly

“Yes, it was the low whistle my sister had mentioned and the metal sound as if something had hit the floor.”

“Could it have been poison?” you inquire

“The autopsy couldn’t tell us how she died. They tested her blood and examined her body but they said there was nothing out of the ordinary. I suspect that she died of fright. And I fear that it will be the same fate I meet.”

“You’ve heard the whistle then?”

“I’ve moved into my sister’s room because of some repairs being done to my room. I’m going to marry in two weeks, just like my sister, I heard the whistle last night. I couldn’t sleep so I got dressed and made my way to you as soon as the sun came up.”

“Very good” Sherlock grins “will we be able to inspect your house without your step father knowing?”

“He’ll be out today, so I’m sure you can have the whole day to investigate. I can wait for you at the manor from noon”

“Expect us to be there by mid afternoon. I have some business to attend to beforehand.”

“Thank you so much, Mr. Holmes” she stands up. After a few more words the lady leaves them to their thoughts. Sherlock excitedly looks out of the window, it’s still quite early and the streets are quiet. You make some tea while John reviews his notes.

“You think it’s murder?” John asks

“Of course it’s murder. The metal noise she heard might as well have been the bars on the windows being put back into its place. I can’t say for certain until we see the rooms.”

“Maybe the butler did it” you joke

“If you’re trying to be helpful, please stop.” Sherlock replies not amused

“I was joking” you set down the tea near him

“Well next time, keep your humour to yourself and what the hell are you doing?”

The sudden outburst was because of the door bursting open. A tall man stood in the doorway. He was brute and gruff. Everyone turned to him.

“Sherlock Holmes” the man announces “I know you. I’ve seen your website. You’re that bloody know it all that thinks he’s a detective. What has my daughter been saying to you? I’ve seen her come here. I know she’s been talking to you. What did she say?”

“Consulting detective” Sherlock cocks his head to the side “What brings you here, Dr. Roylott? Can your daughter not keep her own affairs without you?”

“Best you keep out of my business, Mr Holmes, or you’ll get what’s coming to you.” The man walks to the fireplace, picking up one of the iron rods and bending it out of shape. He throws the bent metal onto the floor.

“Indeed, Doctor. But I do believe it’s Ms. Stoner’s business I’m concerned with and not yours.” Sherlock gives the man one of his comprehensive glances

“I’m warning you, keep away from my family” Dr. Roylott threatens storming out as soon as quickly as he had appeared.

“Interesting” Sherlock walks to the fireplace, grinning largely at the misshapen iron. He straightens it out with no apparent effort “I have some things to look into. Get some clothes packed, we might be spending a night at Stoke Moran.”

Sherlock left later that day, leaving you and John for a few hours. You told him you would handle the packing and by the time you were done you had a small suitcase more than enough for one night.

“It looks like the late Mrs. Roylott had invested in some bonds” Sherlock came through the door just as you zipped up the bag. He throws the papers on the table for John to examine

“No, no, no” Sherlock exclaims “you’re not coming”

“Come on, Sherlock, just once” John looks through the papers “Some of these companies have already shut down. That must mean her money isn’t such a hefty sum anymore.”

“Exactly” Sherlock said excited “We must leave immediately.”

Sherlock was obviously not pleased that you had tagged along; he kept to himself most of the trip, mumbling occasionally. John said he usually did that, it was nothing to worry about.

You checked into a local inn, getting two adjoining rooms before heading down to the manor. Helen Stoner greeted you at the door. She hadn’t bothered to change since you saw her earlier that day but her hair had been combed back.

Sherlock made his way to the middle room, ignoring the former room of Ms. Stoner. It was rather set back in the past. The four poster bed sat in the corner of the room, completely adorned with tassels and the curtains. An antique dresser was opposite the bed. Two wicker chairs just by the door made up the furniture of the room. The floor was hard wood except where the area rug lay in the middle.

John immediately examined the window, testing the bars if they would budge at all. Sherlock curiously got down on the floor to look under the bed, finding nothing of importance. You and Ms. Stoner, watched the two men at work, carefully going over every detail of the room.

“I take it that vent has been installed only recently” Sherlock brushed down his pants

“Yes, my step father had it installed two years ago”

“And so was the bed”

“He likes keeping the classic look to the house. The bed was his idea, although my sister was not very fond of it.”

“I want to see your father’s room now” Sherlock demands

Dr. Royclott’s room was much larger than his daughter’s but his furniture was sparse. Aside from a bed that lay in the middle of the room there was a safe and a single chair. Sherlock examines the safe, quietly before turning to Ms. Stoner.

“What does your father keep in this safe?”

“Business papers, I believe”

“You can open it?”

“No, I’ve seen it once some years ago.”

“You don’t think he’d keep a cat inside here?”

“Of course not, what a silly thing to say, detective” Ms Stoner looks quite puzzled.

“There’s a small saucer of milk on the safe and I know for a fact you don’t own a cat. Well, yes a cheetah is a rather large feline but I don’t think a saucer of milk will suite its fancy.”

“I...I... suppose not”

“Tonight you retire to your bed early, tell your father you have a headache. Once he’s gone to his own room, you text me. John and I will come in through the window and spend the night in your room. I believe you can stay in your old room, the repairs to it did not look immediate. We will stay at the inn while we wait for your call. From there we can see everything that happens here.”

Ms. Stoner agrees without any objection. She feared for her life and to her, Sherlock was the only one who could save her from the same gruesome fate that befell her sister.

“Did you know there would be a vent?” John looked up at his friend as we walked to the inn

“I suspected as much, there had to be a connection between the two rooms for her sister to have smelled the cigar smoke. A ventilator was the most logical conclusion.”

“You think it was strange?” you chime in cheerily

“With the same effort to create a ventilator that connects the two rooms one could have made one to the outside. I also found that the bed was attached to the floor. No matter what happened, the bed would never change its position right at the vent.”

“What do you make of it?” you continue asking

“Something interesting”

The hours passed but still no word from Ms. Stoner. John was busy typing away at his blog as you made some tea for the men. Sherlock was pacing once again across the room. He was his usual impatient self. You handed them the tea and they thanked you for it.

“What is taking her?” Sherlock sighs, taking a sip of your tea

“It’s not even dark yet, Mr. Holmes” he scoffs angrily

“Just sit down and take it easy, Sherlock” John stops his typing “She’ll call us when she’s ready”

You watch them carefully, quietly making your way to the window. John takes some sips of tea and gets back to his blog. Sherlock is still standing in the middle of the room.

“Do you take drugs, Mr. Holmes?” you ask looking out through the window, your gaze wandering over the colourful tent in Ms. Stoner’s land.

“Not recently. Why?” you turn to face him, closing the curtain as you did.

“Your resistance is very strong”

Sherlock’s expression changes violently. He stares at the cup of tea he had just finished, putting it down and backing away from you. Observing his body, he doesn’t feel anything out of the ordinary. Just the temperature in the room was rising.

“It’s quite hot in here, isn’t it Sherlock?” John stands, pulling off his leather jacket.

“What have you done? What did you give him?” The taller man shouts pointing at John

“Don’t be alarmed,” you smile, holding your hands behind your back “I don’t think this is a drug you’ve ever encountered, Mr. Holmes; rising pulse, sweaty palms, dilated pupils, unbearable heat.“

“An aphrodisiac”

“Hmm, it’s more than just an aphrodisiac. The effects are heightened to make you lose control. Your reason will give in to your desires. The drug you just took will basically turn you into a sex crazed rabbit.” 

You walk past him to touch, John’s cheek. The shorter man’s face was completely red. He was panting as he fidgeted with the collar or his shirt as if it was preventing him from breathing. You look at him tenderly before looking back at the other man.

“Have you ever been in love, Sherlock?” you bite your lip “Because despite what you may say or refuse to say. I know, for a long time, I’ve known, John had feelings for you. You were being kind, saying that I have trouble with long term relationships when it was John all along, wasn’t it? You two make quite a couple. Oh, don’t be so surprised. I know how to read emotions, just as well as you can read the facts.”

 

“That’s absurd...”

“She’s right Sherlock,” the shorter man gulps “I want this. I’ve always loved you but you were just too deep in work most of the time. I love you, Sherlock, that’s it I’ve said it. It might be the drug but I can’t think of anyone else but you right now. I want to be with you.... I. Want... You”

“John?” Sherlock began to mutter, beads of sweat on his brow “John listen to yourself...”

John came up to his friend. They were so close, Sherlock could feel his breath against his neck. An unfamiliar feeling was creeping up on the taller man. His heart was pounding against his chest, racing faster than ever. Sherlock suspected it was the drug slowly taking effect, nothing real. He was using up all his strength to control his urges but having John so close was tempting.

“I’m going to kiss you now, Sherlock” his friend warns. Before he could argue, John pressed his lips to his. The soft supple lips of his friend were intoxicating but Sherlock was trying to think. It was getting more and more difficult to do so. Being rigid at a time like this was as John had expected from the taller man. He unbuttoned Sherlock’s shirt as he continued to kiss him, slipping his hands underneath to feel the firm muscle.

You watch as the shorter man asserts himself on the detective. John hooks his fingers in the waistband of his friend’s pants, tugging playfully before finally undoing the zipper. Sherlock’s hands are still at his side but he looks as if he’s already giving in to the kiss. His eyes are closed as John continues his movements, palming the tenting of the taller man’s pants.

Sherlock gasps, feeling his pants fall to the floor. His friend breaks the kiss, getting down on his knees. You can see the forceful rising and falling of Sherlock’s chest. He was enjoying this more than he was letting on. Suddenly, his hands fist in the light brown hair of his companion, a deep moan escaping his lips.

Finally, the drug took its full effect. You watched as John kissed the underside of Sherlock’s length, his tongue dragged over the sensitive skin making Sherlock grip tighter. Taking the whole length of his friend in his mouth, John could feel the head of Sherlock’s dick at the back of his throat.

They were enjoying it too much, hardly noticing that you were slipping off your dress and unhooking your bra. You walked over to your bag, the reason why Sherlock had accused you of over packing. Taking out a long stick like object, you grinned as you held it. Turning back, the two men were still absorbed in their own little workings. But that was about to change.

A resounding crack got their attention. You were completely naked, except for the black pumps. In your hands you held the riding crop and you knew Sherlock’s interest peaked.

“John, why don’t you take off your clothes and I can deal with Sherlock for a while” you said seductively, bringing the riding crop to the taller man’s cheek. John worked hastily to take off his clothes as you continued to stare into Sherlock’s eyes.

The delicious tension was building. You turned his cheek with the crop, pressing it against his high cheek bone and moving it down to his chin.

“I think we’d be more comfortable on the bed, Mr. Holmes” you suggested, pushing him back, the riding crop still against his skin. The black leather tip against his porcelain white skin was hot. You resisted the urge to smack him across the face with the crop, knowing brute strength won’t get you what you want. He kept his gaze fixed on you, more importantly on the riding crop. Sherlock sits at the edge of the bed. You smirk devilishly, throwing the riding crop to the floor.

“Don’t worry, I just wanted to get your attention” you say, kneeling to continue where John had left off. At that moment, John came back taking a seat next to his friend. You look up at both of them, ready to pleasure them both.

You alternated, taking Sherlock in your mouth first then John. Their moans, encouraging you to move faster. John shifted his weight to kiss his lover, moving his hand over Sherlock’s back. You move back, letting John push down Sherlock onto the bed. The shorter man looks at you with a grin, holding his hand out to help you to your feet. You straddle Sherlock, playing with his black wavy hair.

His high cheekbones and deep blue eyes were gorgeous. You twisted a lock of his midnight dark hair around your finger, admiring the look on his face.

You look at his erotic expression, running your finger over his lips, his breath hitching. What was he thinking? Being silent was not a characteristic of Sherlock. You had expected him to make a fuss but the drug was working better than you had expected.

“Oh, I get it...” you whisper “you want John”

John was right behind you, tracing your spine with wet kisses. Reaching between your legs, you hold John’s length in your hand, guiding him to your entrance. Pushing back, you feel John enter your core, stretching your walls remorselessly. Sherlock’s eyes widen as he watches your movements with John. It delighted you to tease him, leaning back into John as he continued to thrust into you. Your mouth fell open as you panted with move.

The man beneath you is starving, you bend down to kiss him, moaning into his mouth as John gives in to his want. Sherlock wraps his hands reluctantly around you with the same enthusiasm as a high school graduate on his first night. You smirk quietly, remembering how Moriarty called him the Virgin. He wouldn’t be able to poke fun at Sherlock after tonight.

Sherlock’s hands on your waist, John pushing into you from behind, the two men were driving you insane. John’s soft but passionate touches burned your skin, his deep voice pleased your ear. He was everything you could have wanted and yet Sherlock was right in front of you, fulfilling every other desire you had.

You dip into the crook of his neck, playfully nipping at his pale white skin, creeping to his ear. He hums in agreement as you trace your tongue over his ear. The breath from your lungs warms his flesh slowly. Sherlock’s hand glides up your back, tangling in your hair as you continue to probe the inner concaves of his ear.

John pushes his whole length inside you, making you gasp in start. Your back arching as you felt him filling you, relishing in the smooth flow of endorphins. The young doctor pulls out of you, only to repeat his motion of burying himself in you to the hilt. You grip the sheets tightly, your face contorted in pleasure. Sherlock cradles your face in his hands, pressing his lips on yours hungrily.

This was the first time he had initiated a kiss with you, the sweet awkwardness of the situation coupled with the ardent motions of John was driving you over the edge. You felt close to orgasm, your voice failing to make a sound. In an instant you collapse on top of Sherlock, spent from a shivering climax. You roll off him, lying by his side you watch as John whispers into the taller man’s ear, what they had in store could not be good.

In one fluid movement, Sherlock was on top of you, grasping your hips with such delicacy. You gave him a look of distress, knowing that the night was far from over. John moves up behind him, kissing Sherlock’s shoulder attentively. You can only grip on to the sheets as you feel Sherlock enter you, stretching your core just as John had.

Sherlock mewed, your eyes look over his body. John must be trying to prepare his friend for what is to come. You rock together in a slow rhythmic pace. In a small corner of your mind you imagined Sherlock in beat to one of his own compositions. Seeing him compose was just as thrilling as having him right here. John tended to Sherlock, taking it slow on the inexperienced man; kissing his every muscle as he pumped two fingers into Sherlock’s entrance.

“Sherlock” John warns, just as he had done when he kissed him. You shut your eyes, hearing only Sherlock’s voice as John enters him. The sheets crumple under Sherlock’s tight grip. You caress his face lovingly, quelling his moans with a kiss.

All you can see is Sherlock’s face, inches from yours. He doesn’t move, and you think John is offering him the same courtesy, letting him adjust to his length. You can’t wait, you want this now. Night is fast approaching, it won’t be long ‘til you get the call. Steadying yourself by embracing Sherlock, you thrust your hips upward. He moans, moving slightly, in effect John moves with him. Looking at John over Sherlock’s shoulder, you can tell he’s enjoying the moment.

You play with Sherlock’s messy black hair, how long you’ve imagined running your fingers through the strands over and over. In leisurely long strokes you forget yourself, forget what you’ve come here to do. Time passes and all that’s left are your intertwined bodies, moving in synch.

The slow pace gradually quickens, the virgin’s first experience was something. You wondered if he would even bother to put this night in his mind palace. John would certainly remember this night, as he delighted in ravishing his long time love. They might not have gotten to this point if not for you. The moment is bittersweet.

Sweat drips down from John’s forehead, the heat from your bodies making it difficult to breathe anything but each other. You heard John pant, the raspy breaths of air left his lips making you crave more. There was something about the sounds; the pants and moans, the slapping of skin against skin that elicited eroticism. You smirk again remembering the obscene tone Sherlock’s phone once had.

Your thoughts are short, fragile, swept away by the sudden movement of the men on top of you. Sherlock being pressed against you does not allow much movement but what little he does hits your sweet spot perfectly. Were they right in calling him a virgin? There were awkward moments but there were also times he pushes you over the edge. And what about John? The sweet, caring John, Sherlock’s moral compass. What can you see now? A man taken by want, thrusting into his lover to quench his own desire. ’Was it the drug?’, you thought. The drug wasn’t this good. The two men had lusted after each other for so long.

John is close, you hear his voice quivering, his thrusts becoming deeper and more forceful. You tilt your head back, moving your hips to pleasure yourself against the taller man. Sherlock’s out of breath, John’s name rolling over his tongue. As John thrusts you move up, feeling Sherlock inside you.

Your close, John and Sherlock are near, too. A few deep thrusts and you hit your peak. Moaning as you rake your nails on Sherlock’s back. The feeling of electricity running through your veins as your orgasm washes over you. John soon follows suite, pushing himself deep in his lover before gaining release. The warmth from John and your tightening around him, cause Sherlock to climax. You hear them moan weakly, riding out the last of their orgasm.

Sherlock falls on you, completely exhausted, John has better sense to roll to your side, pulling his friend with him. You look at them while trying to catch your breath. The drug you had slipped them would soon cease its effect. It had taken a lot of the two men, having gone through a night like this, you weren’t surprised that they were dozing off. You decided to let them rest as you got changed.

Neither of them stirred as you moved about the room, packing your belongings carefully. They were both handsome men. You had doubts about leaving them, especially after what had just happened but you knew this was not a long term relationship.

At least after this, they would have each other to fall back on. You tied pulled up your hair, combing it crudely with your fingers. A faint white light catches your attention. Glancing at it, it was apparent you had to leave.

“Sherlock” your warm hand presses on his face softly “wake up Sherlock, you have a job to do. Get dressed and go.”

You kiss him tenderly, your lips barely brushing over his as you whisper goodbye. Sherlock is still in a haze but he sees you do the same to John, kissing him softly before walking away.

The sound of the door wakes the consulting detective completely, his eyes dart open and he sits up in bed. Sherlock looks around the room, seeing the light on his phone. He turns to John, waking him up with persistent shaking.

You step into a car, a driver had been waiting for you at the door of the inn. It’s been a long day; several months of being with these men but now it was time to leave. A small humming sound pulls you from your thoughts.

“Hello” you pick up your phone “Yes, they’ve just gone. They’ll find out Dr. Roylott’s secret, have him arrested if he’s still alive. It was a terrible thing what he did to his daughter.”

“Do you think he knows about me?” the woman on the other line asks

“No doubt, once he saw the riding crop.” You smile “but I believe, he’s more interested in forgetting all about Dr. Watson at the moment. He doesn’t like his feelings getting in the way of work. John might not be as forgiving as Sherlock.”

“Thank you” she paused “I’m sorry if I made you care for them.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you hang up, twirling your phone in your hand as you gazed out the window. The country side was calming, a few lights dotting up your window. You smile at the thought, you knew almost everything about them but did you care.

“Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, I’m sure our paths will cross again.”

Sherlock and John raced to the mansion as they fix their attire. The taller man was wrapping his scarf around his neck hurriedly. John followed close behind, keeping up with the long strides of his partner.

“Sherlock” John pants “about what happened...”

“There’s a time and a place John. We were drugged, nothing more but chemicals inducing our uncontrollable state. I take pride in detaching myself from emotions, not letting them get in my way. But the body gives us away, the carnal desire instilled in us and amplified by her drug. Disgusting.” He stops right at the window “The game is a foot, John. I intend to solve this tonight and thinking about what had just transpired between us and that woman will only slow me down. Better to act as we had not encountered her at all and find out about this blasted speckled band.”

“So, you’re saying to just forget about it?”

“Yes, problem?”

“Nope” John followed Sherlock through the window, into the room they had earlier investigated. Helen Stoner greeted them, wishing them luck before silently moving to her old room.

The two men sat quietly in the dark, not even the drawing of breath could be heard. In absolute darkness, they sat nervously, waiting for something to happen. Sherlock waited at the foot of the bed while John had opted for a less comfortable chair by the door. John stared out, open eyed despite the fact that he could not even make out his hand in front of his face. He knew Sherlock was just as awake as he was, waiting patiently, probably thinking.

John licked his lips, he had kissed Sherlock earlier today. They had done more than kissing. He wondered why someone would have done that to him and his friend. What could someone else possibly gain from that encounter? The feelings he had for you were real, he told himself, but what of his feelings for Sherlock? Even more puzzling was the detective’s feelings. His mind was already a puzzle never to be cracked, what more were emotions to the great Sherlock Holmes.

Minutes passed, then hours. He had been given an endless asylum to ponder his thoughts. The man that ruled over his mind was sitting a few feet away yet they could not talk. John desperately wanted to know what he meant to his friend.

He wanted to know because, well, all that he had said while being drugged wasn’t entirely false. The clock ticked silently away, it must have been midnight by now. A beam of light from Sherlock’s torch wakes the room. The taller man whacking at something on the bed as the light flickered.

“Did you see it, John? Did you see it?” John clambers to his feet, taking out his pistol. He could barely see anything with his own flashlight.

“Quick” Sherlock commands, pointing to the door as we could only infer. Before the two men even took a step a horrible screech came from Dr. Roylott’s room. Sherlock shone the light on the vent as they both looked at it. As soon as the scream stopped, they turned on the lights and made way next door.

Sherlock knocked twice, upon hearing no answer he kicked the door open. They’re greeted by the stiff corpse of Dr, Roylott or at least they presumed it to be him. The gruff man who had entered their apartment unannounced was dressed in drag, a look of terror on his face. John looked about the Doctor, he was wearing a speckled band on his head that matched what could only be called his evening gown. The folds of the strange headgear started to move and out from it a snake slithers out.

“The swamp adder, yes, deadliest snake in India” Sherlock hums, taking a leash just by the side of the case he carefully captures the snake and throws it into the safe.

“Someone should call Lestrade” he smirks, turning up the collar of his coat and walking out of the room.

A few minutes later, Ms. Stoner gives her statement to the police. She thanks Sherlock and offers him a small sum which he passes off to John.

“Did you know he dressed in drag then?”

“Of course, the manicured nails, the sense to show brute strength and why else would you keep a bunch of circus clowns on your lawn.”

“So, tell me how he did it? I know he let the snake into her room through the vent. But how did you know?” John inquires about the details on their way home

“It was rather simple, really. Ruling out that no one could have come into the room, the only possible explanation was it was not a person but maybe an animal. The snake theory came to me once I saw the odd positioning of the bed and vent. And I distinctly remember Ms. Stoner saying her father was an aficionado of exotic pets. He no doubt trained the snake, thus the leash and the milk, to make its way through the vent and down to the bed where he would find his victim. Of course, it did not guarantee that whoever slept in the bed would be bitten. In fact, Ms. Stoner must have escaped with her life several occasions. The fierce blows I gave the snake before it returned caused it to jump on the first living thing it saw, to the unfortunate end of our Dr. Roylott.”

“The whistle and the metal noise?”

“The master calling his sinister pet back and the closing of the safe immediately after. It was quite a tedious plan, when he could have just slipped something in her evening drink.”

John looks at his companion as soon as the words leave his mouth. Was this the time and the place to talk about the events that transpired between them? Surely it was something they had to talk about, not just about the sexual nature of the event but the whole puzzle.

“I’m famished” Sherlock announces “Let’s grab something to eat.”


End file.
